Hidden in the Burning Sun
by Mlle M's
Summary: "Jane, it's me. Please don't do anything stupid, okay? We're going to work this out. Call me back." Phone calls, deceptions, and origami frogs. It took him leaving for six months to know that Lisbon was his light in his darkness. Tag to 4x24.


**A/N:**** So I was listening to the song "When the darkness comes" the other day, and I thought the chorus was definitely something to work on, with all the Jane/Lisbon potential it held. It reminded me of episode 4x24, with all the darkness the 6-month period of Jane's fake breakdown held. I decided to go with it and re-watch the episode at dinner, and this is what came out of it****.**

**I'm open for some constructive criticism, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on a review. Like which of the seven scenes (that are numbered because not placed in chronological order) you ****preferred...**

**I'd of course recommend listening to the song _When the darkness comes_ by Colbie Caillat, but of course, that's up to you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, nor the chorus lyrics of the song previously quoted.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>I.<strong>

**_But you must know I'll be here waiting_**

At the beginning, she would often try to reach him, but he never answered her calls.

_"Hey Jane, it's me. Please don't do anything stupid, okay? We're going to work this out. Call me back."_

_"Jane, where are you? I didn't find you at the motel. Call me."_

_"Jane, you're worrying me. Please talk to me. Or text me, or whatever. I just want to know you're okay."_

_"Dammit, Jane, it's been two weeks. When are you going to finally decide to call me back?"_

_"You need help, Jane. Please let me help you. Talk to me."_

_"I get that you don't want to talk. Just…take care of yourself, alright?"_

_"You're a jerk. And I'm an idiot for still trying to get a hold of you."_

_"Please, Jane, I'm begging you. I haven't been sleeping and I'm worried sick… Just, call me. Or pick up the next time I try contacting you."_

_"This is stupid. When am I ever going to learn? I haven't heard of you in months. _Months_, Jane. You're a bastard, you know that?"_

_"You know what? I give up. You win. If you don't want to talk to me, then I should stop wasting my time and energy trying to reach you. You know where to find me. Goodbye, Jane."_

She doesn't call him again after that last message, even after hearing about his arrest in Vegas. But as hard as she tries to deny it, she's still hoping and waiting for him to come back. Every day.

* * *

><p><span><strong>II.<strong>

**_Hoping_**

"Why am I being released? I didn't raise bail," Jane asks quietly as he signs the paper the officer handed to him. He's feeling groggy, the previous night's leftover alcohol not fully evacuated from his system; and his body is sore from the punches and the uncomfortable sleeping conditions of his given cell.

"Somebody raised it for you," the man on the other side of the desk says.

"Who was that?" A smile is starting to form on his lips, which is paradoxical to the state he's in.

"I don't have that information," comes the officer's disinterested reply.

He's fully smiling now - has forgotten how it truly felt like in the space of these past six months. "Teresa Lisbon's my guess. Huh? Lisbon?"

He doesn't get the positive answer he's hoping for. "I don't have that information."

He decides that man is irksome, and it's all he can do to not tell him his every truths. But he decides to behave this time, because _Lisbon_ is the reason why he's talking to the guy while signing the release forms.

He opens the exit door, and is immediately blinded by the sun. He briefly wonders if she's waiting for him, and is torn whether to hope for it or not.

_But he's missed her. Much more than he thought he would._

He's slightly disappointed when he doesn't see her black SUV in the parking lot; it's for the best, he tells himself.

He's even more disappointed when he learns that she wasn't the one to bail him out.

* * *

><p><strong><span>IV.<span>**

**_Praying that_**

In the end, she shouldn't be surprised he found her in the church. He's probably already known for a while that she prayed for him, hoping her prayers would be enough to save both of them.

He knew how much she cared. And yet.

She is so damn furious at him for simply showing up after six months of absence, like he's never left - but it's hard to stay focused on that anger when another part of her is so relieved to see him safe and alive and _sane_. Well, as sane as Jane could be.

"But you will help me," he finally says, raising his head. As she glances at him, she can still see the shame in his eyes at her previous accusations. It makes things a little better, a little less painful.

"What am I supposed to say? No?"

His heart warms in his chest - he's never admitted it to her, but he's grateful he has her. Grateful somebody's protecting him, worrying about him, and praying for him, even when he doesn't have the same beliefs.

"God, you're despicable."

_Doesn't he know it._ He's always thought that alone would be the last drop that would drive her running away from him one day - and yet here she is. He doesn't deserve her help, but despite it all she is still giving it to him and he's still taking it anyways - he's always been selfish like that, especially where it concerned Teresa Lisbon.

She's extremely annoyed at him for crawling away while she was venting at him, but as she stands up to leave, she finds an origami frog left on the bench he had been sitting on just moments ago.

* * *

><p><span><strong>VI.<strong>

**_This light will guide you home_**

He hugs her before he shoots her - it's his way of saying, _I could never do this to you. I hope you know that._

She hesitantly hugs him back. She knows.

He also hugs her because he hasn't in six months - and she's _right there_ and he's missed her.

_It feels like coming home._

Later, after they'd snuck out of the building and reached his car, he stops her from opening the door.

"Lisbon."

"Jane, we have to get out of here," she panics.

But he engulfs her in another hug, holding her tight for a couple more seconds. "Thank you," he whispers against her hair.

"You're welcome," she sighs as she briefly closes her eyes, letting herself feel his arms holding her against him, their chests rising and falling in sync as they breath - it calms her down.

He smiles as he pulls away. He's almost forgiven.

* * *

><p><span><strong>III.<strong>

**_When you're feeling lost I'll leave my love_**

He's still lying awake at 3 a.m., his eyes glued to the ceiling as Lorelei sleeps soundlessly, her head resting on his left shoulder.

He first thinks about Angela. It's been the first time ever since her death, and he's not proud of it. But he has done it for her, in a way. He's now that much closer to Red John, that much closer to avenging her and Charlotte.

But he then thinks of Lisbon and how this will most certainly hurt her. She'll try to hide it, but he'll see it in her eyes, the betrayal and sadness and self-doubt. Even though she has no reason to, because he doesn't love Lorelei.

It was just sex.

His stomach drops at the knowledge that she won't be learning about this from him.

"What's wrong, lover?" Lorelei whispers sleepily as she stirs.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Go back to sleep," he hushes back.

She raises herself on one elbow, looking at him intently. "Do you regret what we've done?"

He looks at her and smiles. "Of course not."

She has a knowing look in her eyes, but drops the subject as she rests her head down on her pillow. "Okay."

She has the same knowing look in her eyes at his reaction to her suggestion of Teresa Lisbon's dead body as a gift for Red John. He had been doing a good job keeping the wave of panic he'd felt at her proposition under control, but it hadn't been enough.

And it was that same knowing look she used on Lisbon in the interrogation room.

"We were lovers, him and me. Did he tell you that?"

Lorelei then had the satisfaction of seeing her taken aback by the revelation, her eyes not leaving Lisbon's, while he cringed mentally at her obvious hurt and disappointment.

* * *

><p><span><strong>VII.<strong>

**_Hidden in the sun_**

The desert dust is settling around when she joins him, sitting casually next to him on the small sand dune - _it's almost as if all hell hadn't broken loose a couple of minutes ago._

"You alright?" she asks, her voice gentle and concerned. Worrying about how he was coping with the final turn of events.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Never better." It was barely above a whisper.

She doesn't say anything, not insisting nor pointing out his blatant lie. Instead, she watches as he slowly raises his hand, sliding it down her forearm to take hers. She lets him; she knows it's his way of saying, _You know I'm not okay. Please stay. I need you._

She tightens her grip as he holds on.

FBI cars drive by, desert sand swirling around them from the speed, but neither of them complain.

They sit still as time flies by - they will only leave when he's ready. And she'll give him all the time he needs.

* * *

><p><span><strong>V.<strong>

**_For when the darkness comes_**

She's sitting on her couch, going through a recent case file, when her burner phone rings on her coffee table at 11:23 pm. She answers almost instantly - _how ironic_, she thinks, when he hadn't even bothered taking any of her calls when she needed him to.

"Hey Lisbon. Figured you'd be still up studying a case. Speaking of which, aren't those case files supposed to stay at the CBI?"

"I was watching TV," she says simply.

"Of course you were." His tone is breezy, and she half expects him to lecture her about lying to him. Instead, he adds. "You should be catching up some sleep instead of working this late at night."

She's annoyed now. "Do you realize how ironic that sounds, coming from an insomniac? Hi kettle, this is pot."

"You were always better at following advice."

She's tired and she's still pissed at him. "Why are you calling, Jane?"

He clears his throat on the other end - he doesn't want her to know how her question stings just a little, because she never used to mind when he called her before, no matter the time, and even for the simplest of matters. But he deserves it; he did this to himself.

"I talked to Red John's girl today." He knows she's holding in a breath. "Told her I did need a new life. That I was considering the offer. She said all I needed to do was accept Red John's friendship."

"That easy, huh?"

"No, there's a catch." And she doesn't like the tone in his voice, knows she's not going to like what she'll hear next. "He wants to speak to me first. And I'll need to bring him a gift."

"What kind of gift?" she asks, knowing all too well a keychain wouldn't cut the fit.

"Your dead body," he says almost solemnly.

"Okay," she replies with a calm she isn't feeling. Her blood runs cold at the knowledge that Red John wants her death.

She knows Jane would do anything to catch Red John. She also knows she shouldn't, but for a brief second she still wonders if he'd be capable of doing this. It's silly and irrational because she _knows_ Jane better than anyone else, the Jane who made her origami frogs to say he was sorry, who was all about birthday ponies and strawberries and trust falls.

"Lisbon," Jane calls out, almost as if he's scared she'll hang up on him. "You have to trust me on this." The words come out insistent and urgent; he'd give his life to find Red John, but not hers. Surely she knew that.

Of course she does. But she suddenly feels a wash of anger at the word. "Oh, so I'm supposed to trust someone who doesn't trust me?"

"Lisbon…"

"You know, I'm still deciding whether I'm mostly mad or disappointed you didn't let me in on this stunt." Her tone is cold, and he can decipher the hurt in it.

"You have the right to be both," he says softly.

He hears her sigh on the other side of the phone. "You lied to me for the better part of a year, Jane," she states calmly.

"I know."

"You didn't answer a _single_ call, or message I sent you."

"I know."

"You're a jerk."

"I know."

"But God help me, I still trust you," she finishes softly.

There's a meaningful pause in the conversation, during which only their breathings can be heard.

"Thank you, Lisbon." His voice is low and heartwarming.

She purses her lips, even though he can't see her. She lets a couple of seconds pass. "So," she starts, her tone lighter. "Do you have a plan?"

"I'm working on it," he admits. "I'll call you again tomorrow to share the details."

"Okay." She waits for him to add something, but he doesn't. "Well, goodnight Jane."

"Oh, Lisbon?"

"Yes?"

"You should know that I missed you too. Okay?" His voice is warm and sounds like home. _It took him leaving for six months to know that Lisbon was his light in his darkness._

It was also his way of asking if they'd be okay.

She smiles genuinely - hasn't in a while - while warmth coils in her veins and sinks in gently. "Okay."

He lets her hang up.


End file.
